


pools of improbability

by Did



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Crack, Gen, Wardruid Loti/Hexlord Raal pre-ship, misuse of future vision, rastakhan and zul are the only adults here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 07:25:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16530083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Did/pseuds/Did
Summary: Zul daydreams.





	pools of improbability

“...and _someone_ needs to stop letting his pterrordaxes roost above the Raptari district! The raptor handlers have quite enough work to do without a flock of glorified carrion birds treating the training pens as their own personal latrines, _Honored Hexlord_ -”

“Well _perhaps_ if the area did not smell so strongly of _old meat_ , Paku's children would not be so drawn to it, _Esteemed Wardruid_ -”

“I do not take lessons in housekeeping from someone who lives in a tree!”

“Better a tree than a den of filth, stench-lizard!”

Zul, his face an impassive mask, shifts minutely in his seat and resists the urge to rub his temples.

Zul does not enjoy council meetings. While he takes great interest in the direction of the Zandalari Empire, the minutiae of governance has never been one of his interests, and his fellow council members speak of little else. Zul's world is a world of portents, meditation, and managing his flock of devoted acolytes, not...whatever inane thing the Wardruid and the Hexlord are currently bickering over.

He attends only at King Rastakhan’s insistence. (If memory serves, the king’s exact words were “If I must suffer, so must you.”)

And so Zul suffers.

Predictably, Loti and Raal’s terse discussion is well on its way to becoming a shouting match. Both of them are ears-up and showing teeth, seemingly oblivious that the rest of the council is watching them with varying expressions of entertainment or contempt. Yazma appears to be discreetly taking bets as to whether the situation will escalate to physical violence.

At the head of the table, Rastakhan shakes his head slowly and gestures at a servant to bring more wine.

The Wardruid and the Hexlord are relatively recent additions to the council. They were promoted on the basis of...some battlefield accomplishment or another. Zul never cared to learn the specifics. As far as he can tell, the only remarkable thing about either of them is their shared ability to turn what should be half a moment's conversation into an hours-long argument.

Zul despises them utterly.

Unfortunately, King Rastakhan is rarely inclined to second-guess his own decisions, no matter how ill-considered they might be. There is little chance of Zul convincing the king to revoke their membership. For now, Zul is doomed to spend much of his foreseeable future watching two grown trolls snarl and squabble like a pair of harbor saurids in a back-alley fighting pit.

Zul wonders how upset Rastakhan would be if the two of them happened to suffer some sort of unfortunate accident. A horrifically violent accident. Possibly involving a devilsaur.

Now Yazma is trying to catch Zul’s eye. Zul decides he has had enough. He detaches himself from the present moment turns his mind inward.

Zul is not in the habit of using his gifts lightly, but the whispering spirits who grant him his visions do occasionally permit him some small amusements. He sifts delicately through a handful of adjacent timelines, grabs a promising-looking strand, and -

\- _stands up and backhands Hexlord Raal across the face. The room immediately goes silent. Zul takes a moment to savor Raal's shock -_

\- and then retreats back into the present as his vision rapidly deteriorates into Wardruid Loti flinging herself at Zul and clawing his face off.

...hmm. Interesting.

Zul blinks as he re-orients himself. Rastakhan is giving Zul a knowing look from the head of the table. Zul raises his brow-ridges loftily and returns his attention to the discussion at hand.

Yazma is currently simpering that perhaps these young ones lack sufficient experience to manage their beasts, and suggests that they could benefit from the instruction of the Atal'Shadra. Loti and Raal let out simultaneous indignant squawks. Zul takes a moment to be sacrilegiously grateful that he has never bound himself to an animal loa.

Managing the Atal'Zul is not without its challenges, but at least he has never been obliged to contemplate the logistics of waste disposal for his acolytes in any level of detail.

Once again Zul withdraws, this time with purpose. He scans the threads of fate, chooses a likely candidate, and -

\- _flicks his hand casually in Wardruid Loti’s direction, summoning a concussive blast of shadow magic. Caught off guard, Loti is unceremoniously flung from the side of the pyramid. Raal launches himself out after her without hesitation. Seconds later, the distant screech of a pterrordax implies that one of Raal’s beasts has retrieved them before the inevitable splatter could occur._

_Out of curiosity, Zul lingers in this vision, ignoring the way the king and council gape openly at him. Soon, a battle-scarred pterrordax alights atop the council ledge. Raal and Loti stand upright atop the beast’s saddle, wearing twin expressions of unbridled rage. Raal, Zul notes, is clutching Loti possessively around the waist. Loti is leaning into the embrace._

Zul terminates the vision seconds before Raal’s pterrordax bites his head off.

Ah. Well. That settles things.

In the present, Loti and Raal’s argument has devolved into a free-for-all, with every council member aside from Zul and Rastakhan himself apparently feeling the need to contribute their opinions simultaneously. The noise is atrocious. Rastakhan looks as though he is considering abdicating the throne.

Zul stands and stalks unobtrusively over to Rastakhan’s seat. Rastakhan gives him a long-suffering look as Zul leans over to whisper in his ear.

“My king, I believe I have discovered the solution to this...situation.”

Rastakhan sighs. “We have had this conversation before, my friend,” he murmurs back. “I am not stripping two council members of their position simply because you dislike them.”

“That is not what I am suggesting.”

“Oh?”

“...I am not certain how to phrase this.”

Rastakhan groans. “Zul…”

“You must order them to fuck.”

“ _What?_ ” This, Rastakhan says loud enough to catch the attention of every council member save Loti and Raal. Zul glares balefully at them until they all decide to mind their own business. (Loti and Raal, of course, are still maintaining unwavering eye contact with one another.)

(In the back of his mind, Zul admits to himself that he probably should have been able to trace the origin of this problem without the aid of future vision.)

“Would you prefer that they continue subjecting us to- this!” Zul hisses, gesturing impatiently towards the trolls in question. Loti turns to regard them both suspiciously. Raal is too busy regarding Loti to pay attention.

“Order them to get it over with so that we may all return to our duties!”

“...you have some very concerning ideas about how romance works, Zul.”

“I would be glad to arrange it myself, if you so desire.”

“I think not. Your solutions tend to involve...too much maiming.”

Zul shrugs in agreement.

Rastakhan stands up, grins his widest, most winning grin, and slams his hands down on the council table. The room is startled into silence at once.

“Loti! Raal!” he booms. The pair of them look up guiltily. “I have just remembered that I have a very important mission for the two of you! Right now. Alone.”

“Ah...yes, my king?” Loti ventures. Zul wishes he could see Rastakhan’s face from where he is standing. Judging by the expressions of the other council members, it must be mildly terrifying to behold.

“Zul, what was that extremely crucial task you just informed me of?”

“Gathering anchor weed from the summit of Mount Mugamba.” says Zul, deadpan.

“Anchor weed..?”

“Do you question the visions of the Royal Prophet?”

“N-no, of course not!”

“Then go. Take with you only a single pterrordax.”

“But-”

“Go!”

Loti and Raal scramble from the room as if stung. Rastakhan promptly adjourns the meeting.

 

* * *

 

Later, as Zul accompanies Rastakhan back to the throne room, Rastakhan turns to him with an expression of bright-eyed mischief that makes him look a hundred years younger.

“So...Mount Mugamba?”

Zul shrugs. “A long flight in the cold, sharing a saddle. I believe nature will take its course.”

“Ah. I retract my previous comment, my friend. You have the soul of a romantic.”

Zul grunts. “Hopefully you will not need them for a real mission any time soon.”

“Why is that?” says Rastakhan, beginning to look alarmed.

“They will be out there for some time. Anchor weed does not grow on Mount Mugamba.”

Rastakhan’s laugh echoes through the halls of the Great Pyramid.


End file.
